The Man Who Cheated Death

Chapter 31 Malibu

Driving out to Malibu on the Pacific Coast Highway, Wondero could not help but stare longingly at the ocean’s gently lapping waves. He had grown up surfing in Santa Monica, and the sound of waves still called him like the sirens in the old Greek myths.

Malibu beach was open to the public, but the closeness of the homes made it impossible for anyone to reach the precious sand without first hiking for six miles. Wondero had often toyed with the idea of taking a personal day, and spending it walking the entire stretch, just to satisfy his curiosity and see if it was any better than what he’d grown up on.

Rolling up his window, he quickly fell back to reality. The phone call he’d gotten from Hardare an hour ago had floored him. The detective had checked his anger long enough to learn where Hardare was staying, then told him what he thought of his decision to remain in L.A. while Death was still at large.

“That’s it up ahead,” Rittenbaugh said. “Nice place.”

Wondero parked in the driveway behind a mud-caked Bronco with a trailer hitch. He had never quite understood Malibu’s allure, and he supposed he never would. Literally thousands of houses, some as imposing as mansions, others the size of matchboxes, lined the four-lane road like cereal boxes on a grocery shelf. He wondered if Hardare really thought he was safe here, in a place with a major highway for a backyard.

At the front door a thin Oriental examined their photo ID’s.

“All right,” he said, ushering them in.

The Oriental wore a black turtleneck and skintight jeans, no shoes or socks, and did not look armed. As he led them down a hallway, Wondero realized that he made no noise when he walked. Passing a kitchen, they entered a multi-level living area with vaulted ceilings and glossy parquet floors so bright the sunlight seemed to dance on them. The room was sparsely decorated, with a sprawling L-shaped leather couch, plus a few oddly shaped tables and chairs that could have easily been pieces of expensive art. In the room’s center sat a large piece of furniture covered by a white sheet.

“What’s your name?” Wondero asked.

“My name is Li,” the Oriental said.

“Are you in charge of security?”

“That’s Mrs. Hardare’s job.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I don’t kid. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Li excused himself and left the room. Wondero went to the window and looked out. Somewhere he remembered reading that Jan Hardare had been an instructor at a school for mercenaries, a fact that he had immediately discounted after Death had kidnapped her.

“Hello, detectives.”

Wondero slowly turned around. Hardare had appeared out of nowhere, and was standing in the center of the room. The magician’s cheeks were flushed and his brow was glistening.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been out running...” Wondero said.

“Not at all. I was upstairs hanging upside down in a straitjacket. But it probably did my heart as much good.”

Wondero said, “I thought you were going to leave town.”

“Did I say that?”

“Yes, right after your wife was kidnapped. You told me that if you found Jan, you were going to get out of L.A.”

“I realize this is difficult to understand,” Hardare told them, “but too much was at stake not to go through with the engagement. Besides, what’s to stop Osbourne from following us? We’re as safe here as we would be anywhere else.”

“You’re putting your lives at risk,” Wondero said. “Whatever you stand to gain by staying here can’t replace a life.”

Wondero paused, expecting Hardare to agree. When he didn’t, the detective threw his arms into the air and in frustration said, “Look, do you mind if I speak with your wife?”

“Go ahead,” said a woman’s voice.

Wondero again spun around, this time finding Jan standing directly behind him.

“Where did you come from?” Wondero asked incredulously.

“Indiana, originally,” she said. “We appreciate your concern, but I think we’re well prepared for Osbourne this time around.”

“Prepared?” Wondero said in disbelief. “Tell me how you prepare for a sociopath.”

“I’ll do better,” Jan said, “I’ll show you.”

Jan gave them a quick tour.

The beach house was owned by a magician friend who was a successful orthopedic surgeon. The house in Malibu was his weekend retreat, and hearing of Hardare’s troubles, he had graciously offered it because of its elaborate security system.

The upstairs consisted of a master suite and a gymnasium. There were intercoms in each room, and the windows were wired to a surveillance system that ran behind the walls, and could not be tampered with. If for some reason the electricity failed, the house would convert over to a generator in the downstairs utility room.

The first floor security was even more elaborate. The windows were also wired, while sonar boxes in each room would alert them if anything larger than an ant made an appearance. To keep his guests entertained, the doctor had built sliding partitions into the walls, allowing not only for a lot of fun, but also a quick escape if there should ever be a fire.

To further insure their safety, Jan had hired three instructors from her old school; each had fought in at least one war, none of which the United States had participated in. One man — Jan would not say which — had also specialized in “wet work” while employed by the CIA years before.

Jan left the icing for her husband. They had returned to the living area when he dramatically whisked the sheet off the stage illusion that occupied the middle of the spacious room.

“This was lent to me by my friends, Siegfreid and Roy,” Hardare said, draping the sheet over his arm. “Harry, tell me what you see.”

Wondero circled the stand. “I see a square metal cage sitting atop a stand that looks about three inches thick.”

“Anything else?” Hardare asked.

Wondero got on his knees and stared beneath the stand.

“Aren’t they the guys who turn women into tigers?” Rittenbaugh asked Hardare. “My wife and I saw them at The Mirage. They were unreal! They did this one trick with a fire-breathing dragon...”

“Nothing,” Wondero said. “It looks fair to me.”

“Good. Now watch closely,” Hardare said.

Helping Jan into the cage, Hardare shut the metal door as she crouched down inside. Stepping back, he tossed the sheet in the air. As it flew above the detectives’ heads, it opened to its full size and dropped down over the cage, elegantly engulfing his wife in its folds. Without a second’s hesitation the magician snapped the sheet away. Crouched in the cage sat his beaming daughter.

“Hey guys,” Crystal said.

“Where did your wife go?” Wondero asked.

“I can’t tell you that. But I will tell you this. She’s someplace very safe.”

Wondero hated to be fooled. As the detective got on his knees and began rapping the floor, Rittenbaugh said, “Aw come on, Harry, it’s just a trick.”

Wondero could not figure out how the trick was done. Stymied, he let Hardare walk him and his partner out to their car.

“I still think you’re making a huge mistake staying in L.A.,” Wonder said. “You’re a public person, for god’s sake. What if Osbourne slips into the theater during one of your shows?”

“It’s a chance we’re willing to take,” Hardare said.

“Look, I know we’ve let you down. Give us a chance to redeem ourselves. Let me post a pair of cops in the lobby and a pair at the backstage door. They can check everyone who comes and goes. It will make Osbourne think twice about sneaking in.”

“That would be great,” Hardare said. “While you’re offering, do you mind if I ask another favor?”

“Go ahead,” Wondero said.

“Wednesday night I’m performing an outdoor escape to help promote the show. Could you send some men for protection?”

“Consider it done,” Wondero said. “Just give us the location and time, and we’ll be there.”

Wondero and his partner got into their car. Wondero had a thought, and went back to the front door where Hardare stood.

“You and your family have a lot of guts,” Wondero said. “Please be careful. I don’t want to see anything else happen to you.”

“We will,” Hardare promised him.

Then Wondero got into his car, and drove away.